Imagine That!
by La Nanita
Summary: J.K. Rowling's world is turned upside down when she stumbles into a world she thought only existed in her imagination...AU after the 7th book. Read and Review!
1. What a Day!

**Author's Note**

While on the Mugglenet forums, someone gave me the most interesting idea for a fanfic. (I've forgotten your name but you know who you are.) I've written two beginnings and would love it if you would tell me which one I should continue with. On to the story…

_**Chapter 1**_

Sunlight broke through gray clouds and streamed in through Joanne Rowling's bedroom window. Dust swirled lazily in the beam of light. The scene was quite beautiful but Jo was in no state to enjoy it.

Currently, all that could be seen of the young woman was a mass of tousled, blonde hair. The rest of her body was swathed in blankets and curled up against the chilly London morning.

Half-conscious but unwilling to wake up, she stirred briefly and rolled over to her other side. She felt the sunlight against her closed eyelids, like an insistent hand nudging her awake. Experimentally she cracked an eyelid.

The hand that had been gently nudging her switched tactics and viciously poked her in the eye. Jo fancied she heard the light laughing at her. Offended, she pulled the covers over her head and rolled over so her back was to her windows. She briefly entertained an image of her pulling the blinds shut and crossing her arms. "Take that." she harrumphed.

_Did I just talk to a beam of light? _

_Yes, and now you're having a conversation with yourself. You're completely mad. _

_I'm not mad. I just have a..._vivid_ imagination,_ she countered.

With that, Jo swung her legs out of bed and slid her feet into her slippers. Rubbing her eyes, she shuffled to her bathroom to freshen up. Her shower, however, did little to wake her.

_Barely out of bed and I'm already exhausted _she thought to herself. _This should be an interesting day. _She had no idea how interesting the day would be…

After showering and dressing, she stood in front of her mirror and eyed her make-up bag apprehensively.

_Why bother? It's not like you'll find true love at work today._

Tired and in no mood to argue (even with herself) Jo responded. _You're my conscious right?_

_Obviously._

_Then why don't you say anything useful?_

Satisfied that for the moment her inner-self was silenced, she turned back to her make-up bag. She found however, she had lost all interest in cosmetics.

Sighing, she made to run a hand through her hair. Half-way, she noticed her watch and she shut her eyes.

_That isn't the time. It can't be. When I open my eyes, it'll be half-an hour ago._

She tentatively cracked one eye.

Nothing had changed.

_Nice try,_ her conscious drawled.

_Oh shut-up!_ she replied.

Jo took off the hallway at a half-run to grab her briefcase from her office. She had transformed her front room into an office.

_Why do I need an office at home? _Jo thought._ The last thing I need is more work._

True, the second bedroom in her flat currently held only a dangerously unorganized desk a chair, and a bookshelf; but she loved it anyway. It was the perfect place to catch up on work or spend the day with a cup of tea and a good book.

Smiling fondly, she remembered the story that that she had come up with a few days ago. The other day, while sitting on a train, reading the news, a wizard named Harry Potter dropped into her head fully-formed. She had passed the rest of the time dreaming up adventures for him in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. When she returned home she wrote bits of it down in a notebook.

_No time to reminisce now! _She reminded herself.

_Oh. Right._

She reached her office and turned the doorknob. She took a step toward her briefcase but stopped when her high-backed chair slowly turned to reveal a tall, bald, black man. He sat reading her "Harry Potter" notebook. He lowered the book and smiled.

"I have chosen well. You have quite the imagination."

Jo's last conscious thought was "_You don't know the half."_

And then she passed out.

_You have no doubt read the Harry Potter books. Watched him learn and grow. Looked on as he found adventure, intrigue, and even romance. Bitten yours nails as he goes up against Voldemort, the very embodiment of evil. But what importance does such a battle hold when there is a much deeper evil creeping into both our world and Harry's? _

_Yes, I said "his world" because he is real. Harry is more than a character in a book. He has a life outside of its pages. He exists in a universe just as real as yours. _

_Magic is real. How do I know?_

_I was there._

**Author's Note**: And it would go something like that.

I would appreciate you telling me if I'm completely off or how I should tweak it or that I should quit writing forever. Any feedback is appreciated,

La Nanita


	2. In the Darkness

Jo lay flat on her back. If it wasn't for the fact that she vividly remembered experiencing a full morning, she would have thought she was asleep. Maybe it was a dream? Jo opened her eyes; at least, she thought she did. It was hard to tell when the world outside her eyelids was as dark as the one inside them. She pinched herself for good measure. Experimentally, she passed her hand in front of her face. Nothing.

_What's going on? _Jo thought. The last thing I remember is that black man in my chair and now….this. Ironically, the only thought that pierced her shock-fogged mind was: _I'm definitely gonna be late for work._

"Hello?" Jo questioned of the gloom. At first, the only reply Jo received was the sound of her own voice echoing in the darkness. _Hello? Hello? Hello? Hello?_ It sounded as if the darkness was questioning Jo's presence there. But then she heard a voice that was certainly not her own.

"Hello." A deep, amused voice responded. If Jo was a betting woman, she would've put money on the voice belonging to the black man from before. But just to be sure…

"Who are you?" Jo asked. It was incredibly freaky to hear a voice and see….well….nothing.

"Me? I'm everyone and no one. I'm Just a man who's made some mistakes." the black man (for Jo's eyes had adjusted enough to make out his hulking figure) murmured.

"Right…" Jo said caught off guard by the profound reply. "And this place is" she asked, gesturing pointlessly.

He turned to her with a small smile that no one could see. "This place is whatever you want it to be." And with that, he disappeared.

AN: I felt guilty for not updating this story in a while but I haven't really been hit by any amazing ideas. To be honest, I only have a vague idea of where this story is going. This is the first part of chapter two. Hopefully the second part will be posted this weekend. Read and Review!

Love,

La Nanita


	3. Sanity's Relative

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter and all licensed trademarks are the property of J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. No profit is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Note:** Sorry it's been a while. –Offers up chapter to appease the readers- But here's a healthy –sized chapter! Please read it to the end, some stuff goes down.

Imagine That

Chapter 3

_You've gone insane. You've lost your mind and now you're locked up in some madhouse. _

I have not.

_Have so. You're sitting in the middle of a huge room with white walls, you think you just saw a man vanish into thin air, and _Jo's conscience added smugly _you're talking to yourself __**again.**_

Oh, shut up.

Jo banished her "other half" to the back of her mind for the time being.

But Jo had to admit, that the circumstances sounded very suspicious, she very well may be insane. But she didn't feel crazy…This led her to and interesting thought: Do insane people _know_ they're crazy? Even if someone told a crazy person they were insane would they believe it? The person would probably think _they_ were insane. Wouldn't insanity for an insane person be sane? If sanity is insane to an insane person, then aren't all sane people insane on some level?

Jo felt a headache coming on. As if she didn't have enough problems.

_Yeah, you got problems. That's for sure._

Jo shut her eyes tightly and rubbed her temples. This headache was going to be beastly. At a loss for aspirin, Jo thought pondering a subject less intense than The Relativity of Sanity might relieve the pressure building in her head. Her mind fell to the cryptic message the Black Man had left her with: "This place is anywhere you want it to be."

What could that possibly mean? Jo asked herself. _That you're insane_, her conscience supplied.

Yes, thank you, aside from that?

It seemed that "Jo Jr." had retreated to her sub-conscious once more, however. So Jo sat in thoughtful silence, with her chin propped up on her hands. Any where you want it to be…Jo shook her head ruefully. All she wanted this place to be right now was her bedroom, so she could take an aspirin and a nice long nap. Jo closed her eyes and almost dropped off right there. Just before she fell into real, deep sleep, she heard a faint popping noise. She would have been content to drift down into the depth of her dreams, but something (or some_one_ Jo thought, remembering the Black Man) rudely pulled her back to the surface.

When she opened her eyes, she saw her "Harry Potter" journal lying innocently on the floor directly in front of her. But how could that be…Jo rubbed her eyes fervently thinking that the appearance of notebook was a trick of the light. (_Or a hallucination_, "Jo Jr." suggested) But when she opened her eyes, the notebook was still there, defiantly denying the impossibility of its presence. Jo reached out with a trembling hand. When her fingertips made contact with the book's leather cover instead of the cold, white floor, she hysterically cried, "What's going on here? What is happening to me?"

Once again, the room mocked her with echoes. _What's going on here? Here? Here? Here? _

_What is happening to me? Me? Me? Me?_

Then the echoes faded and she was left in silence. Though she, the notebook, and her snarky sub-conscious were the only things she knew were in the room, she felt an odd expectancy hung in the air; as if something important was about to happen. After a few cataclysm-free moments, Jo sighed. The feeling of excited expectancy abated, but not faded completely. Her eyes fell to the leather-bound notebook in her lap. Without thinking, she opened to the first page. The corners of her lips quirked in a small smile and she began to read….

"When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, gray—" She cut off. Something had happened. On the opposite wall of the vast white-walled room and square of color had appeared. She slowly stood and walked toward it, drawn like a fly to a bug-zapper. As she approached, the "square of color" became more defined. It reminded Jo of a television, only it wasn't. It was more like looking through a window.

She was now almost level with the "window" and could clearly see a man and a woman. Vernon and Petunia Dursley, her mind supplied. They looked exactly like Jo had pictured them. On instinct, Jo opened her notebook and continued reading.

"When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, gray Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange things would soon be happening all over the country. Mr. Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work, and Mrs. Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair."

Jo gasped. In front of her eyes, she saw her words take shape. She watched Vernon flick through his closet and heard Petunia babble about the neighbors. Then she was seeing the Dursley's kitchen, and watched Dudley struggle to escape his high chair. Jo's eyes grew to roughly the size of dinner plates.

Jo returned her widened eyes to her notebook. "None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past the window." Jo almost lost her balance as the view suddenly swept to the kitchen window where, sure enough, an owl swooped by.

At this point, Jo was too shocked to be surprised by the appearance of a desk, and couch behind her. Jo's knees promptly buckled and she unceremoniously flopped onto the new couch. On the seat next to her, a bowl of popcorn appeared.

The voice of the Black Man came to her, "You might as well be comfortable. This could take sometime."

Jo looked from her notebook, to the "window" to the bowl of popcorn and grinned.

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Review Pretty Please!

**Author's Note: **The upcoming chapters will probably be about Jo creating the Potterverse. Obviously I can't cover it all, or this fanfic would be longer than the books. So review and leave a request as to what scenes you'd like to see.

Much Luv,

La Nanita


	4. In Between

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and all registered trademarks are property of JK Rowling and Warner Bros. No copyright infringement is intended and not profit is being made.

_In Between_

Jo could never really tell how long she spent "In Between" as she fondly referred to the white room. The absence of doors or windows made traditional time-telling impossible. The Room was timeless, but that didn't particularly affect Jo: her time there was measured in words, not hours.

There wasn't much to do in the white room. _If I didn't have my notebook,_ Jo reflected, _I'd go insane._ From the back of her mind, Jo Jr. laughed at her. "_That_ battle's lost," the voice seemed to say. Jo sighed, shook her head, and went back to work.

She called it "work" but that wasn't the word for what Jo spent her days doing. Not the word at all. It was like playing make-believe in the sand-box again. Jo merely closed her eyes, relaxed, and let the story write itself. She felt like the story was fully formed inside her, she just had to get in on paper—to set it free.

It was an exceedingly wonderful feeling.

Jo found that "the window" was not limited to "acting out" her story: it would show her characters and places as well. When Jo realized this, she backtracked and spent an entire day (week? month?) devoted completely to the setting. She wrote pages on top of pages of character descriptions and sketched out what seemed to be the entire Wizarding world, periodically gazing at "the window" in wonder.

At the end of the day (month? year?), Jo finally put down her pen and sat back, rubbing her hand, to read what she'd written. However, it had been a long day (year? decade?), and Jo fell fast asleep, using her notebook as a pillow.

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When Jo awoke, it was to the discomforting vertigo of one who doesn't know where they are or how they got there. It took Jo almost a full minute to realize that she was in her in own bed. In her own bedroom. In her own house.

_But what about the white room?_ she asked herself. _What about "the window"? What about _Harry_?"_

**It was all a dream**, some cynical, logical part of her mind stated. **A dream brought on by stress and a dangerously vivid imagination.**

A dream…it made sense. It made a lot of sense.

_But it felt so _real. **All dreams feel real,** that horrible voice of reason pointed out. **Until you wake up.**

Jo was still arguing with herself as she swung her feet out of bed, stuck her feet in her slippers, and shuffled to her bathroom. On the way, she passed her calendar.

June 1st. Jo stopped, dumbstruck. A day after the Black Man had whisked her to the white room. **You didn't ****go anywhere,**that cruel voice said with certainty. **You spent the entire day passed out in bed.**

Jo could think of nothing to suggest otherwise, so she morosely continued to her bathroom to get ready for the day.

She left her room, half an hour later, fully dressed, but still not fully decided. A dream or not a dream? She had no idea. The whole experience had seemed so real but she knew there was no way it could have all happened in the space of one day…

Jo ducked into her office to grab her briefcase and saw her notebook sitting on her desk. **Right where you left it two days ago.**

Painfully slowly, Jo approached her desk, where her "Harry Potter" notebook lay innocently between two haphazard stacks of paperwork. She reached out for it with trembling hands. Jo closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and opened it.

Jo's eyes widened in shock: _The entire notebook was full._

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**Author's Note**: Sorry this hasn't been updated in a while. These first few scenes are just an introduction and the rest should come faster now that it's out of the way. Please Review!


	5. Through the Window

**Disclaimer:** I am not the main character of this story, I am the author. The main character in this story actually _owns_ this story but I am not her, I do not own her, so I don't own this story.

**Author's Note:** Just read and review. It's gonna be good…

_Chapter Five: Through the Window_

Jo lived the next few months of her life in depressed denial of what had happened to her. She went back to work. Jo almost smiles as she remembers her encounter with her boss. Where were you yesterday, Jo?" she solemnly replied, "I don't know." There's no real point, Jo thinks. Why work? Her job felt unfulfilling and somehow empty.

In an effort to raise her spirits, Jo even tried to get her story published. However, she was faced with more disappointment. Publisher after publisher turned her down, saying the story wasn't real enough, that no one would want to buy it.

She hid the notebook away. Jo couldn't yet confront the implications. If the notebook was full then the Man in Black, the white room, the window—it was all true. She'd actually been there. But she'd only been gone a day. So the notebook couldn't be full. But it was.

Round and round, Jo would go in maddening circles, but the bottom line was: she was scared. She thought she was losing her mind, falling out of touch with reality. So she hid the notebook, from herself—from the world.

So it was that the notebook and the Missing Day were almost completely forgotten, until fate brought them back to the surface.

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Jo had prepared for another tiring pointless day at work. On her way out, she stopped and opened her "office" door to grab her briefcase. Only it wasn't her office, and her briefcase was nowhere to be found.

The door that had opened to reveal Jo's personal office for many a year had chosen this time to open into the white room. Jo had taken two steps into the room before she realized what happened and turned frantically to race back out the door, back to her life of normalcy. To her intense shock and dismay, the door snapped shut in her face. Jo tried the handle, although some part of her knew it wouldn't open. As she expected, the door knob didn't turn at all either way. Just then, Jo's situation got worse.

From behind her, she heard the deep voice of the Black Man. "No, you'll not be going anywhere this time." Slowly, horrified, Jo turned around. Now she could clearly see the Man in Black silhouetted by the brilliance of "the window". "No, no, no! Not this again." All her terrible memories were rushing back with the pervading uncertainty and doubt of her sanity.

The Man in Black smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I seem to recall you enjoying yourself the last time you were here."

Jo's inner turmoil calmed for a moment. Only one thing pierced her mind. "You mean I was _really here_?" The Man in Black was visibly upset by this. "Of course you were."

"But, I spent so much time writing…and when I got back…the calendar…" As if speaking to a confused three-year-old, the Man in Black replied, "Time is different in different worlds."

Jo's mind had returned to its previous uproar, and this information was incredibly hard to take in. "Different…worlds?"

"Yes, naturally. Time may pass differently in the two worlds, but in both, time is running short."

Jo heard the words and understood their meaning, but somehow it just didn't make sense. "What do you mean "world?" It's just a story." Suddenly, the Black Man's eyes were aflame. Through the thin line of his mouth he managed, "What did you just say?"

Jo could tell that something she said had cause the change in the man, but she couldn't for the life of her, tell what it was. Cautiously, Jo said, "It's just a story?"

The Man in Black shook his head sadly. His expression was that of a disappointed father, as he said, so softly Jo could barely hear. "I was afraid of this. But there's nothing I can do now. It's far too late. The fate of your "characters" lies in your hands alone." Between one moment and the next, Jo's notebook appeared in the Black Man's hands. "Hey!" Jo exclaimed, "That's mine!" In a few, purposeful strides she had crossed the white room and snatched the book away.

The Man in Black arched an eyebrow, but allowed the book to be taken from his grasp. "I thought you had forgotten about it?" The question was posed politely enough but Jo could almost _feel _the venom in his voice. She weakly offered, "Well, I remember now."

"Good. Countless lives depend on it."

In desperation, Jo cried out, "What do you mean? I don't understand! Tell me!"

The Man in Black took a quick step forward and, surprised, Jo lost her balance. "See for yourself." Then he said one word, powerfully, as if willing something to happen: "Remember."

_Remember, remember, __remember_.

The words echoed, Jo couldn't be sure if they were inside her head or not. It didn't matter, because she was falling, falling, falling through a window and into an adventure that would change her life, and the lives of countless others forever, forever, forever…

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**Author's Note:** If you like it: Review. If you don't like it: Review. They make the chapters some faster.


	6. In the Flesh

**Disclaimer:** The main character of this story s actually the author of the story from which these characters and situations are taken, so she owns it all…I guess…

**Author's Note:** Wow, it's been a long time. But I feel good about this chapter, so hopefully you will too…maybe you'll forget about the long wait…hehe…

**Previous Chapter:**_Remember, remember, __remember_

_The words echoed, Jo couldn't be sure if they were inside her head or not. It didn't matter, because she was falling, falling, falling through a window and into an adventure that would change her life, and the lives of countless others forever, forever, forever…_

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_**Chapter Six:**__ In the Flesh_

Jo was awake, but her eyes were still closed. Unwilling to wake up just yet, but quite curious where her fall through darkness had ended, she employed all her other senses to find out what was going on. She could feel a bed beneath her, it was small but comfortable. She could smell a jumble of herbs, some familiar and others totally bizarre. And she could hear snippets of a conversation.

"You mean that she…"

"Yes. So, naturally she'll need free-reign, permission to come and go as she pleases…"

At this point, Jo sighed and opened her eyes. She was immediately confronted with blinding whiteness from all sides. She hid her face in her hands and groaned loudly.

"She lives!"

Startled, Jo whipped around to face the person who had spoken. Her jaw dropped. In front of her stood Madam Poppy Pomfrey, in the flesh, exactly as Jo had written her. Jo gawped stupidly for a few more moments while Madam Pomfrey scribbled something on a clipboard. Finally Jo stuttered, "P-Poppy? Poppy P-Pomfrey?" Over her clipboard, Madam Pomfrey gazed at Jo with an arched eyebrow. "On a good day," she replied crisply.

Then the reality of where Jo was hit her like a train: She was _in_ Hogwarts. In the hospital wing to be exact. Jo was quite sure she would have passed out again it the sudden appearance of the Man in Black hadn't shocked her. He walked calmly out of Madam Pomfrey's adjacent office followed by a flustered and confused-looking Professor McGonagall.

"I'm afraid I still don't understand…" McGonagall was saying. But the Man in Black forestalled her with a hand. "In time, all will become clear." And with that, he regally swept out of the room. Jo swore he winked at her before he left.

Now Jo was left alone with two characters she had written into existence inexplicably standing in front of her. Minerva sighed and shook her head at the door through which the Man in Black had disappeared. Then she turned to Madam Pomfrey and said, "Is she quite alright?" nodding at Jo.

"Just a little shocked," Madam Pomfrey replied. With a small smile she continued, "No wonder really, with an entrance like hers…" McGonagall nodded curtly. "Right then," she said to Jo, "Follow me." She turned smoothly on her heel and began walking across the room. Jo hurriedly swung her feet out of bed and made to follow. She caught up with McGonagall just outside the door and fell into step with her brisk pace.

They walked silently for a few moments, then McGonagall asked, looking straight ahead, "Do you have a name?"

"Jo." Jo said.

McGonagall paused. "Joe?"

"Joanne Rowling. But I prefer 'Jo'."

"Oh, nice to meet you Ms. Rowling." She said extending a hand which Jo shook. "I am—"

"Professor Minerva McGonagall." Jo finished.

Puzzled, McGonagall asked, "How did you know?"

Jo smiled and said, "It's a long story and you probably wouldn't believe it if I told you."

After a moment, the professor replied, "Very well." And set off down the hall with Jo on her heels.

Four staircases, three corridors and two secret passageways later, McGonagall finally stopped in front of a portrait of a dark-haired woman with a kind demeanor, who was currently snoring softly. "Your quarters are behind this portrait," McGonagall told Jo. I'll expect you to be present at the Start of Term Feast which starts in…"Here she consulted a watch that Jo saw, with a flip of her stomach, was the one she'd created for Dumbledore. "An hour." McGonagall finished, "You can wear these," she said, conjuring a set of black Hogwarts robes which Jo caught. "But those won't last; you'll have to get some of your own…Am I forgetting anything? Oh yes." McGonagall twirled her wand and the battered old Sorting Hat appeared in her hand. She placed it on Jo's head.

_Hmm…what's this? You're not even a __proper __witch are you? Let's see, let's see__…You've got a good heart…a _great _mind. But I sense fear in you…No doubt about it….RAVENCLAW!_

Jo sighed in relief as McGonagall nodded again and the Hat vanished. Then she addressed the portrait, clearing her throat loudly. The woman in the portrait stirred, and muttered, "Five more minutes…" Jo thought she saw a hint of amusement. "Guenivere!" she said sharply, and the woman in the frame started awake. "Ah, Minerva. How may I be of service?"

"I have a…" she paused, considering what Jo was exactly. "A guest in need of your quarters."

"Oh, lovely! A guest! It does get lonely down here." Guenivere said. She smiled down at Jo and Jo grinned back. "Well, just give Gwen a password, and you're all set." McGonagall said. "I'll see you at the feast." And she turned and walked back the way they came. Jo watched her go for awhile, still shocked that she had just _talked_ to Minerva McGonagall. Then she returned her attention to Gwen. "So…a password…"

"Yes, dear," Gwen said. "It can be anything you want." Jo looked up and down the corridor for inspiration. "Uhm…how about 'magic'?"

"A little obvious if you ask me." Gwen replied.

"Yea, you're right," Jo pondered for a few moments before an idea dawned on her and her face lit up. "Does it have to be a word? Or can it be a phrase?"

"Anything." Gwen repeated.

"Alright, what do you think of 'Sanity is Relative'?"

Guenivere smiled, "Very original and very true," she said as she swung forward to admit Jo.

She stepped through the portrait-hole and gasped. Inside was a large, spacious bedroom/office. In front of her was a comfy-looking four-poster with blue sheets and silver draping. On one side was a bed-side table, on the other, a dresser. Jo walked in slowly and revolved on the spot. "You like it?" Came Guenivere's voice from the other side of the wall. Jo was too stunned to reply, but she heard Gwen chuckle to herself.

There was a door to her right which Jo correctly took to be a bathroom. She found a nice-sized, white-tiled bathroom on the other side, complete with bathtub, shower, sink and toilet. She turned to face the mirror and almost screamed. Her seventeen-year-old self was staring back at her. For a few moments she stood in front of the mirror, transfixed, but after the day she'd had, this little twist didn't shock her that much at all. She changed into the robes McGonagall had conjured for her and wasn't surprised that they fit perfectly. She watched with a smile as the Ravenclaw sign embroidered itself on her uniform.

Jo left the bathroom and tossed her old clothes on her new bed. Looking around, she noticed the desk, and more importantly, what was sitting on it: her Harry Potter notebook. Next to it was a note that read, "Just in case."

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**Authors Note:** Hopefully this is enough plot development to keep you guys satisfied for a while. As always: REVIEW!!!

Pleas and Thank you,

La Nanita


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